


(I Wanna Be) Your Underwear

by ellefraser17



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellefraser17/pseuds/ellefraser17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An iced coffee, a ceiling fan, a pair of underwear & a lost and found bin</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I Wanna Be) Your Underwear

**Author's Note:**

> FF Prompt #29 Up Close and Personal. Title and fic inspired by the Bryan Adams song (I Wanna Be) Your Underwear.

Felicity Smoak had many rules. But there were three important rules that she lived by.

Never be seduced by a piece of technology or code until all its secrets had been discovered because looks could be deceiving (the same rule applied to men, so really it was two rules, but whatever). Never trust a kangaroo, a cat, or brownie offered at a frat party and never leave the house without underwear on. Ever.

Call her crazy but the rules worked for her. The first two rules had evolved after she’d learned the hard way about trusting things or animals (not the kangaroos but there was just something about them that gave her the creeps). The frat boy with the floppy hair and the smell of pot on him should have been all the warning she needed to stay well clear of the plate of brownies he’d offered. But no, she’d learned the hard way. 

The same could be said for the first rule but really, were drudging up old memories the best use of her time when she had much more pressing issues, like how was she going to retrieve her underwear from a ceiling fan.

Back to the rules, never leave the house without underwear on. Technically she hadn’t broken the rule, per se, she had walked out the door of her townhouse that morning with a perfectly good pair of underwear on. Granted they were new, fresh out of the packaging, never been worn novelty panties that had stayed at the bottom of her drawer until that very morning when it was suddenly her only option because, thanks to Oliver-pain-in-the-behind and his mission to save the city, she’d been neglecting her laundry and now there were piles of it around her room begging to be washed. Really, she might have to consider hiring a maid soon if things didn’t improve.

If she’d had more time, she might have given the idea more thought but her priority was getting her underwear back and on her body because, darn it was drafty. This was precisely the reason for rule number 3 – dresses and skirts sans underwear didn’t mix, sort of like oil and water, moth to a flame kind of way. And sitting in her chair in the foundry with a water dampened dress and no underwear with the coolness of the chair mixing with the heat of…well her, wasn’t a combination she’d wanted to encounter. Unless you counted sexual fantasies…

It was all Roy’s fault she wasn’t wearing her underwear.

Roy and his stupid arrows, his crazy need to practice his long distance aim, and his penchant for scaring the bejesus out of her. It was all his fault that her iced coffee had gone from her hand to her lap, the caffeinated liquid quickly soaking into and through her dress right to her underwear and that very private part of her where she had felt the liquid running and pooling. Coffee (iced or otherwise) in your hoo-haw was not an experience she had thought to have after signing on with Oliver and the team.

With the bathroom plumping in the lair acting up (again) and despite her constant reminders to Oliver to have it fixed, because it wasn’t always convenient to run upstairs to the club when she needed to avail herself of the facilities, she’d been forced up into the noisy Friday night patron-packed club. And after standing in line for fifteen minutes and being forced to endure the stares and whispers of the other women in line (a little overdressed for a club, isn’t she? Or her favourite, doesn’t she know this isn’t a library?), she’d finally managed to snag a stall and clean the coffee out of her private area but of course that had meant taking her (now stained) underwear off. The line to use the washroom had been gone and it sounded to her like she’d been alone when she’d emerged and Felicity had been about to rinse out her underwear when the door suddenly burst open slamming against the wall startling her. How her underwear had gone from her hand, flying through the air to the ceiling and catching on the blade of one of the bathroom fans she didn’t know.

She’d stared up at her white and green bikini briefs circling the ceiling of the woman’s washroom, the round and round motion making her dizzy. The scantily-clad young girls who had been the cause of the noise had stared up too and broke into fits of girlish giggles when they realized what the item was hanging from the fan. Despite her four inch heels and jumping up and down like…well a jumping bean Felicity had been unable to reach her now whirling underwear.

Great.

More young girls (she couldn’t call them women because they barely looked like they’d hit puberty let along old enough for entry to the club) entered the washroom and a line began forming yet again. Felicity had been forced to forgo her panties and exit the washroom. She would just have to wait until everyone left for the night to retrieve them.

And so she’d waited in the cool, damp basement loosing herself in her searches and coding writing, navigating her boys through the streets of the Glades and doing a little victory dance when their hard work paid off nabbing two high level Triad members. Despite the lateness of the captures (it was past 1 in the morning when they’d returned, thankfully unharmed), Roy & Oliver had both changed going back upstairs to help Thea close the club. It wasn’t normal for Oliver to involve himself in club business now that his sister had re-opened, and along with Roy, seemed to be doing a bang up job of turning the place into the hippest most happening place to see or be seen in Starling City, but Felicity had noticed that on the particular nights he chose to change into his business suit and join Thea upstairs he was really looking to belt back a few scotches.

And it had all started after Sara’s death. And if she wasn’t a secure person she would start to take it personally because the nights where he would come back from vigilante-ing, shower, change, and go upstairs to drink only to wait until Felicity had left to return downstairs to train and ultimately fall asleep on the cot in the corner were happening more frequently.

The hardest part of all was that he waited until she left before returning, as if being around her was too difficult. And what bothered her even more was his arrogance that he was the only one hurting, the only one who found it trying and uncomfortable to be around someone they couldn’t have. 

After three years she had a Master’s Degree in how to make herself comfortable around a man she cared for and desired above all else.

But the question now was, how was she going to get her underwear from the ceiling fan without anyone noticing? She needed something to stand on, that much was certain and the only thing that came to mind was a stool from the bar. However, Oliver, whose butt was most likely ensconced in one of those stools right now, would notice if she just made off with one. Felicity checked the time, it was almost half past two and she really needed to get home and crawl into bed for a few hours of shut eye. She was just going to take a chance and rescue her underwear, at any cost. 

Not because she was fond of them. But because of rule number 3. There was no way she was going home without her underwear on. She’d left that morning with them on and there was no way she was going home commando.

But there was another reason. They were novelty underwear and weren’t meant for eyes other than hers.

Felicity walked past the case containing Oliver’s arrows when she had an idea, snatched one and sprinted up the stairs as fast as her high heeled feet could carry her. The first thing she noticed when she opened the basement door was the absence of the hard-hitting heavy beat thumping music, in fact there was a considerable reduction in noise. She peered out from a crack in the door wanting to make sure the hallway was clear before tip-toeing down and across it to the ladies washroom. But before she could make her move the door to the washroom suddenly opened and Roy exited, a distinctive pair of stained underwear in his hand. 

Oh frack.

“Another pair for the lost and found,” she could hear Roy saying. “In the woman’s bathroom again but you’ll never guess where I found them,” he paused for effect then continued, “hanging from the ceiling fan.”

As silently as she could so as not to attract attention, Felicity removed her heels and walked down the hallway in her bare feet, staying close to the wall so she could hear what was being said without being seen. 

“Mmmmm…someone got frisky tonight.” Thea chuckled then her tone changed sounding contemplative. “Not the usual type we get here, that’s for sure. They probably belong to some girl who’s some sort of Arrow groupie. I mean who would wear an arrow running down the crack of their ass.”

Felicity heard Roy huff out a laugh. “Must be that leather he wears. Drives the girls crazy.”

If Oliver was still at the bar then Roy was deliberately baiting the man, knowing full well who he was.

“Let me see.”

Frackity-frack. He was there.

“Really, Ollie. It’s not like there’s a name tag,” Thea teased.

“Speedy…” His tone held a warning but also a request and Felicity imagined his sister handing over the undergarment. 

The silence that followed was deafening and Felicity could hear her own heart slamming against her chest, her mind picturing Oliver fingering the coffee stained dark green trimmed white cotton between his fingers, visualizing him tracing his thumb over the arrow that, like Thea had said, ran down the back (in perfect alignment with the separation of butt cheeks) pointing to the middle. Leaning her head back against the wall, Felicity closed her eyes and continued imagining him turning the underwear over repeating the thumbing action with the front arrow, the one that began at the top and pointed down to the most intimate place.

“They smell like coffee.” His voice was soft but loud enough that she could hear him. “And…” His voice trailed off and she could envision him holding them up to his noise and breathing deep. “Coconuts?”

“Eww, Ollie,” Thea protested. “Sniffing unknown women’s underwear? You must be desperate.”

There was a silence then the clink of a glass being set down on the bar. “Mind if I hold on to these?” It was a question but it wasn’t and Felicity imagined Thea wondering what was going on with her brother that he just upped and took random women’s underwear from the club’s lost and found. “Thanks,” he said then she heard the telltale sound of a Verdant bar stool scraping back. That was her cue to move and fast.

Felicity ran back to the basement door on her tip toes and managed to get the door open and closed as quietly but as quickly as she could. Once inside, she flew down the stairs, across the foundry floor, dropping in her computer chair just as the electronic beeping of someone punching in the door code could be heard.

Felicity kept her chair turned around, staring at her computer screens. Unfortunately she couldn’t pretend to do much since she’d started a major diagnostic testing program before leaving on her ill-timed mission to retrieve her undergarment from its spinning hell.

Oliver’s heavy footsteps echoed throughout the basement as she heard him descend the stairs and walk across the floor in her direction. Felicity took a deep breath trying to calm her rapidly beating heart but it wasn’t until he stopped behind her chair, perhaps a few feet based on the sound of his voice when he spoke, that she realized she still had one of his arrows clutched in her left hand.

“Stand up.” There was no teasing tone to his voice, instead it was firm and demanding. And it made her nervous.

Felicity thought about ignoring him but Oliver wasn’t a man to be ignored. “If you wanted my chair all you have to do is ask nicely. I mean, just because you paid for everything down here doesn’t mean I’m at your beck and call.”

“Felicity, stand up……please.”

“Really, Oliver,” she laughed but it sounded false even to her own ears. “I’m busy running this…code. Whatever it is you want can wait.”

Felicity wasn’t prepared for him to spin her chair around and she let out a little “Eeep” as she came to a stop in front of him. Reluctantly her eyes moved up his body taking in his well-fitted grey suit and white shirt open at the neck before landing on his face. His jaw was taught and his eyes were a darker blue than usual, but it was the corner of his mouth that gave him away because there was a noticeable tick he was desperately trying (and failing) to control.

“Stand, please,” he asked and it was soft and warm and before Felicity realized what she was doing she had capitulated to his request and now stood before him. When he took a step towards her she almost sank back into her chair, but instead she held her ground and raised her chin.

Her resolve almost faltered though when his arm reached out to her and his palm settled on her lower abdomen right over the large wet area from her earlier coffee spill. She hissed when his fingertips rubbed circles through her the damp material, exploring the size and shape of the stain.

“Accident?” He asked, the voice dropping a few octaves making her shiver.

“And iced…” she caught herself in time, “beverage spill. It’s all Roy’s fault.”

Her partial admission earned her a raised brow and smirk. “Oh?” His hand was moving lower ever so slowly past her panty line and she couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped her lips knowing the direction his hand was going in and hoping against all hope that it went there. "Did it go all the way through?”

“Ahh…it…”

The hand that had been heading dead south suddenly detoured heading west across her hip but it didn’t stop there, it wrapped around her back forcing him to take another step closer to her, then started its southern descent towards her ass.

“Oliver?”

His hand moved just far enough until Oliver seemed satisfied (judging by the look on his face) by what he’d discovered. Oh, and she knew exactly what he’d been looking for, or not looking for in this case.

“You do, do you?” Him and that darn eyebrow of his.

Oh frack, she’d said that out loud and now he knew she knew exactly what he’d been doing.

She sighed, annoyed and resigned that he’d figured out the underwear belonged to her. “Just hand them over and we can pretend this never happened.” Her palm came up and presented itself waiting for him to give her back what was hers.

“Oh, I don’t think so. Turn around.” Shocked, she opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his request, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak instead using the hand that was still on her hip (why hadn’t she noticed that?) to turn her around and somehow over so she didn’t collide with her computer chair. She was forced to plant her hands on the computer table to keep her balance. With her back to his front, she was effectively trapped, but he wasn’t plastered against her, he left just enough space between them to keep her from leaving but not enough to cause the temperature in the room to rise any more than it had when he’d entered.

“Wh-What are you doing?”

Behind her she could feel him drop down, balancing himself on his balls of his feet, his knees completely bent. She had no warning before his hand grasped her right ankle and lifted her foot sliding something (her underwear she was sure) over it before placing it back on the ground. She gasped, thankful for the desk to hold on to.

“Mmmm…much easier without the heels.” Using his hand, he repeated the previous action slipping her other foot through the other opening of her underwear. 

If Felicity thought he was going to stop there she was mistaken because just as she’d regained her balance from having her feet lifted off the ground, she completely lost her inner equilibrium when he began rolling the undergarment up her calves, past her ankles but they bunched stopping his progression. He didn’t let that stop him though, hooking his index fingers in the corners, he worked the fabric loose of its own confines and slowly (tortuously actually) continued upward halting when he reached the top of her thighs but only so he could straighten up, and she could swear he purposely brushed his front against her back as he did so. 

She groaned when his fingers left the inside of her underwear but it turned to a gasp of pleasure when he replaced his index fingers with his whole hands inside the waistband and with one well maneuvered lift, she was back again in her “arrow” novelty underwear.

“Wouldn’t want you to go home without your underwear on,” he said softly, his hands rubbing small circles on the corners of her hips through the cotton fabric.

“Uhm…yeah.” She swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

Oliver continued to keep himself close behind her even as his hands smoothed her dress down making sure it covered. 

“By the way,” he started before leaning into her fully, his mouth against her ear, his breath hot and when he spoke again it was ragged with need, “I don’t need directions.”


End file.
